Introduction of Anna into the sacred Story--inspired Description of
her--the aged apt to be unduly attached to Life--Anna probably Religious
at an early Period--Religion the most substantial Support amidst the
Infirmities of Age--the most effectual Guard against its Vices--and the
best Preparation for its End.
Two illustrious women have already been presented to the reader as
adorning the era of our Saviour's incarnation; the one, the mother of his
humanity, the witness of his miracles, and the weeping attendant upon his
crucifixion; the other, her venerable relative, the wife of Zacharias, and
the parent of John, who was the destined precursor of the "Desire of all
nations." We are now to contemplate another female, whose age superadds a
charm to her excellences, and whose privilege also it was to witness the
commencing brightness of the evangelical day. Like Elizabeth, her
"memorial" is short, but it does not "perish with her." She has a place in
the chronicles of the redeemed, a name before which that of heroes and
heroines fades away, and which it requires no "storied urn nor animated
burst" to perpetuate.
Anna is introduced to our notice on the memorable occasion which has been
already mentioned, when the parents of Jesus took him after his
circumcision to Jerusalem, to "present him to the Lord." Then it was that
Simeon broke forth in eloquent and prophetic congratulations, expressive
at once of his own triumph over death, in consequence of having witnessed
the accomplishment of those prophecies which had so long and so often
filled him with delightful anticipations, and of the "glory" which he
foresaw would irradiate Israel and enlighten the Gentiles. Scarcely had he
finished his address, when Anna, a prophetess, remarkable for her extreme
age and exemplary piety, entered the temple, and not only united with
Simeon and the rest of the interesting group in "giving thanks unto the
Lord," but "spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in
Jerusalem."
It was benefiting the majesty of the event which had occurred, that the
spirit of prophecy should revive after being dormant for about four
hundred years. Since the days of Malachi no such inspiration had been
afforded; but the new and glorious period commencing with the incarnation
was marked by this as well as other signs and wonders. When Simeon held
the infant Saviour in his arms, the Spirit of God touched his tongue with
a live coal from the altar; and when the aged "daughter of Phanuel"
approached, she caught the glow of kindling rapture, and blended with his
her praises and predictions. This eminent woman is represented as "of a
great age," as having "lived with a husband seven years from her
virginity," and as being "a widow of about four-score and four years,
which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and
prayers night and day." This form of expression does not seem to furnish
decisive evidence whether her entire age was eighty-four, or whether she
was a widow during that period; if the latter, the seven years in which
she had lived with a husband, together with the probable number which
constituted her age at the time of her marriage, must be added to the
calculation, which would produce considerably more than a hundred years;
in either case she must be allowed to occupy a conspicuous place in the
records of longevity.
It has been observed of the aged, that although existence, when extended
beyond the usual period of "threescore years and ten," is nothing "but
labour and sorrow," they still adhere to life with the utmost tenacity,
and are even less disposed to relinquish it than those whose more vigorous
powers and undecayed youth capacitate them for its enjoyment. But however
surprised we may be to witness this anxiety to live in those who are
bending beneath the pressure of years and the load of decrepitude, and to
see that this anxiety rather increases than diminishes, there is something
in it by no means unnatural. In addition to the love of life which is
implanted in every human bosom for the wisest purposes, the aged person
cannot but feel that he is nearer than others to that hour of separation
from all the connexions and interests of time than the multitude around
him--an hour at which nature instinctively shudders, and which is always
regarded as painful, whatever may be the result. Corporeal suffering may
be considerable; and that change of being which the mortal stroke produces
has always something about it awful, mysterious, and terrific. There are
few instances in which it can be approached without some degree of dread,
some shrinking of mind, whatever be the state of detachment from the
present world, and whatever pleasing anticipations may exist with regard
to another: as the patient, however assured of the necessity of the
measure and the importance of the result, trembles while preparations are
making to amputate his disordered limb. It may be observed also of the
young, that while they compassionate their aged friends as the prey of a
thousand imbecilities both of body and mind, and lament over a state in
which man is reduced to a second childhood, there is scarcely an
individual who does not harbour in secret the wish to attain an age equal
at least, if not superior, to any of his cotemporaries. The reason is
similar to that which influences persons at an advanced period of life;
the thought of death, with all its concomitant evils, is unwelcome at any
time, and consequently it is grateful to the mind to place it at the
greatest conceivable distance; so that, were it now within the
appointments of Providence or the bounds of probability, little doubt can
be entertained that the great proportion of mankind would readily accept
as a blessing a patriarchal or antediluvian age.
Anna is particularly noticed as the daughter of Phanuel, of whom we have
no other information; and as belonging to the tribe of Asher, which was
situated in Galilee. This, whether recorded for that purpose or not, might
serve to refute the charge, that "out of Galilee ariseth no prophet,"
since from that quarter proceeded the very first inspirations upon the
revival of the prophetic spirit. Asher was a very inferior tribe, and one
of the ten carried captive by the Assyrians, having departed from the
worship of the true God, and from the house of David, under Jeroboam. But
notwithstanding this general defection, there were individuals who
returned and reunited themselves with Judah, that they might enjoy the
ancient privileges of the people of God. Thus even in the worst of times,
and amidst the least favourable circumstances, some portion of true
religion has always been preserved in the earth. Though the watchful eye
of Providence has occasionally suffered the flame of devotion to languish
and almost expire, yet its total extinction has been prevented, and
unexpected coincidences have frequently excited it into new and more
vigorous action.
We have in the history before us a specimen of a pious old age, remarkable
in itself, and calculated to suggest a variety of useful considerations.
This holy woman probably lodged in the immediate vicinity, if not in some
of the outward apartments of the temple, which gave her an opportunity of
indulging in those constant devotions which accorded with her wishes and
comported with her age. On every occasion she was present at appointed
services, and so entire was her self-devotement to religion, that she was
incessantly engaged in fasting and prayers. The world had no claims upon
her, being alike unfitted for any of its avocations and indisposed to any
of its pleasures: she had bid it a final farewell, and had withdrawn
behind the scenes of this vast theatre, which are so artfully painted as
to allure and deceive the imaginations of mankind, into the secrecy of
devotion and the sanctuary of her God. Peace was the companion of her
retirement, and piety shed its serenest ray upon the evening of her mortal
existence.
It may be presumed that the religion of Anna was by no means of recent
date, but that the seeds of so rich a harvest were sown "in the fields of
youth." Whatever is great or eminent is usually the work of time. _Nature_
does not produce the oak, with its spreading branches and solid trunk, in
a day or a twelve month; and, in general, a rapid luxuriancy is connected
with corresponding weakness and quick decay. The plans of _Providence_
require the lapse of years or ages to accomplish: events of importance
seldom burst suddenly upon the world, and without a previous course of
preparatory dispensations, tending to point out the purposes of such
occurrences, and to awaken human expectations. Nor can _excellence of
character_ be formed without the use of means, opportunities of
progressive improvement, and that experience which must be slowly gained.
Far be it from us to limit the operations of divine grace: it _can_,
indeed, and in some instances _has_, produced effects of a nature to which
no general rules and principles are applicable: it has instantaneously
converted a furious persecutor into a faithful, laborious, and eminent
preacher of "the faith which once he destroyed;" it has transformed a
malefactor into a saint, and in one hour raised the criminal from the
depths of infamy and the agonies of crucifixion to the dignity of a
believer in Christ and the joys of paradise. But these surely ought not to
be regarded as the ordinary methods of its operation, but rather as
miraculous interferences. In general, religious ordinances are to be
constantly and perseveringly attended, in order to the acquisition of
eminence in religion: holy vigilance must concur with devout and fervent
prayer, day by day, to check and finally vanquish the power of depravity,
to elevate the mind above the world, and prepare the Christian for his
future bliss; as the child must commonly be "_trained up_ in the way he
should go," if we hope that "when he is old he will not depart from it."
Impressions deepen and acquire the force of principles by degrees,
knowledge is obtained by perpetual accumulation, and faith is increased by
constant exercise. It would be as vain to look for the wrinkles of age in
the face of youth, or the strength of maturity in the arm of an infant, as
to expect the experience which can only result from the witness of changes
and the operation of circumstances, with its corresponding stability of
character, in him who has but just commenced a life of piety. As "the
husbandman waiteth for the precious fruits of the earth, and hath long
patience for it until he receive the early and the latter rain," so we
must in general look for a slow and gradual formation of the character to
eminence and spiritual luxuriancy. The account given of Anna would
therefore lead us to infer that she had been many years, and in all
probability from her youth, devoted to the service of God.
She had not to regret that her best days were spent in riot and
dissipation, in opposition or indifference to religion, by which so many
debase their nature, offend their Maker, and ruin their souls: but while
she contemplated the future without alarm, and perhaps with joy, she could
review the past with satisfaction.
As memory predominates over the other faculties of the mind in declining
life, and as so much of our happiness or misery at that period must
necessarily result from its exercise, it is of the utmost importance to
lay up in store a good provision in the "sacred treasure of the past."
Nothing can be more desirable than to leave the mind filled with pleasing
recollections; and this can arise only from a life of holiness and purity.
How awful is it to think that the last hours should be disturbed by images
of crime unrepented of, the intrusion of which into the dying chamber no
force can prevent! How lamentable to see the terrors of death aggravated
by the remorse and horrors of retrospection! "Life," says a profound
writer, [25] "in which nothing has been done or suffered to distinguish
one day from another, is to him that has passed it as if it had never
been, except that he is conscious how ill he has husbanded the great
deposit of his Creator. Life, made memorable by crimes, and diversified
through its several periods by wickedness, is indeed easily reviewed, but
reviewed only with horror and remorse.
"The great consideration which ought to influence us in the use of the
present moment, is to arise from the effect which, as well or ill applied,
it must have upon the time to come; for, though its actual existence be
inconceivably short, yet its effects are unlimited, and there is not the
smallest point of time but may extend its consequences, either to our hurt
or our advantage, through all eternity, and give us reason to remember it
forever with anguish or exultation." We may take occasion from the
account of Anna to remark, that true religion is the most substantial
support amidst the INFIRMITIES of age. This is emphatically the period of
"evil days," when diseases prey upon the constitution, and the faculties
both of body and mind decay. Then "the sun and the light, the moon and the
stars are darkened;" the greatest change takes place in the outward
circumstances of gladness and prosperity, the countenance of the man is
altered, his complexion faded, and his intellectual faculties, as the
understanding and the fancy, weakened. It is at this time "the keepers of
the house tremble, and the strong men how themselves; the grinders cease,
because they are few, and those that look out of the windows are
darkened;" the strongest members of the body fail, the limbs bend beneath
the weight of decrepitude and the effects of paralytic distempers, the
teeth drop away, while the eyes grow dim and languid; "the doors are shut
in the streets when the sound of the grinding is low," the mouth becoming
sunken and closed; they "rise up at the voice of the bird," awakened from
imperfect slumber when the cock crows or the birds begin their early
songs; and "all the daughters of music," the tongue that expresses and the
ears that are charmed with it, are "brought low;" they are "afraid of that
which is high, and fears are in the way," alarmed at every step they take,
lest they should stumble at the slightest obstacle, and especially
apprehensive of the difficulties of any ascent. At that age their gray
hairs thicken like the white flowers of the "almond tree" when it
"flourishes," and even the very "grasshopper is a burden," for they cannot
bear the slightest inconvenience, not even the weight of an insect, and
"desire fails:" then is the "silver cord loosed, the golden bowl broken;
the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is broken at the
cistern;" all the animal and vital functions at length cease, and every
essential organ of life decays; "then shall the dust return to the earth
as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."
Reduced to the state of feebleness and incapacity, which the sacred penman
so beautifully describes, man becomes an object of compassion; and it is
affecting to see him struggling amidst the ruins of his former self. The
sight becomes increasingly painful from the consideration that this is one
day to be our own condition; that we too are destined to grow old, to quit
the busy scene and the social circle for the solitude of age, and in our
turn to be pitied--perhaps forsaken! But there is one thing capable not
only of preserving the old from contempt, but of raising them to grandeur
and diffusing lustre over their years of decrepitude. In contemplating
Anna we do not think of her infirmities when we observe her piety: the
meanness of the _woman_--tottering, crippled, dying--is lost amidst the
majesty of the _saint_, incessantly serving God in his temple, and
advancing to the grave "in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in
his season." The dawning of a heavenly day seems to arise upon her "hoary
head:" which, "being found in the way of righteousness," is a "crown
of glory."
Anna's history further suggests, that religion is the most effectual guard
against the VICES of advanced age. One of these is a spirit of
_querulousness_. It is the common practice of those who believe themselves
entitled to veneration on account of their years, to complain of the
arrogant disregard of their counsels, which they impute to the rising
generation. Cherishing the highest opinion of their own sentiments, to
which they attribute a kind of infallibility, as being founded upon
experience, they naturally expect implicit submission to their dictates
and an exact conformity to their views: they require not only to be heard,
but obeyed, and are impatient at the folly of those who rebel against
their wisdom. Hence originate the often repeated tales of the degeneracy
of the present times, and the growing insolence of the young. It may,
indeed, be admitted, that, other things being equal, the aged have a just
claim upon the attention of the young, whom they are sometimes qualified
to instruct; but surely they are not always entitled to the same
reverence, and age does not necessarily confer wisdom. Genuine humility,
however, tends to correct the spirit of dictation, while it combines with
an affectionate concern for the interests of those who are newly come into
life; and genuine humility is the product of religion, which supplies
motives to give advice with kindness, and to endure the rejection of it
without anger.
Another fault of age, is the indulgence _of useless regrets for the past_.
In reviewing life, it is easy to discover instances of our own incaution
or negligence, which have possibly influenced our affairs and been
connected with many subsequent disappointments. We have not availed
ourselves of fortunate conjunctures, or we have rejected profitable
offers; one scheme has failed by our precipitancy, another by our
procrastination--some persons, perhaps, have been foolishly trusted, and
others as foolishly suspected--we have occasionally listened to advice
which should not have been taken, or rejected what would have proved
advantageous; and the consequence has been some diminution of fortune,
some disappointment of our expectations, some failure in the crop of
earthly enjoyment which we had anticipated. If it were possible to recall
the years which have for ever rolled away, or if the felicity of a
rational and immortal being consisted in the possession of temporal
abundance, worldly honour, or corporeal gratification, these regrets would
have some show of propriety, and might at least secure a patient hearing;
hut it is certain, they only betray a weak or a wicked mind; it is perhaps
equally certain, they will generally continue to occupy the thoughts of
the aged. There is, in fact, but one remedy, "pure and undefiled
religion." It is this alone which can fix in the mind a full persuasion of
the _nothingness_ of terrestrial pleasures and possessions. This only can
console us after our ineffectual efforts to "gain the whole world," or
amidst the loss of riches which have "taken to themselves wings," and long
since "fled away," by the assurance, that nothing we ever possessed was
adequate to render us happy, without other and better enjoyments--that
upon a fair estimate, it is questionable whether the perplexities it
occasioned did not counterbalance the advantages it either bestowed or
promised--and that could we _now_ call our own whatever we have most
valued or desired of worldly good, it would prove incapable of making us
substantially happy. _He_ need not wish to renew life, who has the hope of
a better existence--nor regret the loss of temporal advantages, if he have
immortal good. He who "lays up for himself treasures in heaven," may defy
the storms of time, and adopt the triumphant language of the apostle,
amidst the wreck of earthly good, "having nothing, yet possessing
all things."
Similar views and principles alone can correct a third error of age,
namely, the aim to _prolong juvenility to an unnatural period_. "To secure
to the old that influence which they are willing to claim, and which might
so much contribute to the improvement of the arts of life, it is
absolutely necessary that they give themselves up to the duties of
declining years; and contentedly resign to youth its levity, its
pleasures, its frolics, and its fopperies. It is a hopeless endeavour to
unite the contrarieties of spring and winter; it is unjust to claim the
privileges of age, and retain the playthings of childhood. The young
always form magnificent ideas of the wisdom and gravity of men whom they
consider as placed at a distance from them in the ranks of existence, and
naturally look on those whom they find trifling with long beards, with
contempt and indignation, like that which women feel at the effeminacy of
men. If dotards will contend with boys in those performances in which boys
must always excel them, if they will dress crippled limbs in embroidery,
endeavour at gayety with faltering voices, and darken assemblies of
pleasure with the ghastliness of disease, they may well expect those who
find their diversions obstructed will hoot them away; and that if they
descend to competition with youth, they must bear the insolence of
successful rivals." [26]
Religion also must be regarded as the best preparation for that END of
life, with which old age is so closely connected. However proper it may be
to realize this eventful time, at every period from our earliest to our
latest day, it cannot but be regarded as more certainly and evident near
at an advanced age. Anna, after the lapse of a century, had greater
reason, surely, to apprehend her dissolution, than in the bloom of youth,
or at the commencement of her widowhood; and how appaling the prospect!
It would diminish the impression we have of the terror of death, if his
dominion were limited to a part of the world, or to any ascertainable
extent of years; but, while his authority continues unimpaired and his
stroke irresistible, the power he is permitted to exercise over humankind
is universal. In visiting the repositories of the dead, it is calculated
to awaken our liveliest sensibilities to trace the reign of the "king of
terrors" upon the sepulchral stone, or the marble monument. In characters
which time has almost erased, we read the records of the past, and by a
more than probable analogy penetrate some of the mysteries of the future.
Here and there occur the names of those who were venerable for age,
remarkable for their exploits, conspicuous by their station, rank, or
talent--GREAT by the consent of their cotemporaries--who once figured upon
a stage which is now decayed, or where illustrious in an empire which is
now passed away. Some have been smitten by death's withering hand at an
earlier, some at a later period of life. Adjoining the grave of age is the
tomb of youth. There you see the stone half buried in accumulating heaps
of earth, and the inscriptions of love and tenderness obscured by
collecting moss; while the hand that wrote them has long since become
motionless, and the heart that dictated them ceased to beat.
It is affecting to visit places of public resort, under the full influence
of the consideration, that this busy and anxious crowd will soon
disappear--their race will be run, and the immortal prize
gained--or--lost! These possessors of the soil will, in a little time, be
disinherited--these tenants of a day exchanged--the funeral pall will
cover the most ambitious and the most active of them all, and the motley
multitude be succeeded by others equally busy, equally anxious, equally
thoughtless of another state of being--and equally _mortal_!
But these sentiments, however calculated to fill irreligious persons with
dread and melancholy, can produce no despondency in those who, like Anna,
are accustomed to the truths of religion, and derive the chief pleasure
both of their youthful and decrepit age from the services of religion.
With regard to _death itself_ they are taught that his power is limited to
the body, and that it is restricted even to a short period over this
inferior part of our nature; and as to its _consequences_, they cannot
incessantly frequent the temple, and be occupied in devotion, without
learning the value, as well as the reality, of those considerations which
are drawn from eternity. They know that "this corruptible shall put on
incorruption, this mortal put on immortality," and that then "there shall
be no more death." And what do these expressions imply, but, _the entire
renovation of our nature?_--Man is mortal, because he is sinful; and,
consequently, the removal of sin will prove the extinction of death. It is
only by the introduction of moral evil that the earth has been converted
into a vast cemetery, and life become a short and rugged passage to the
sepulchre; but when it shall no longer prevail, our sanctified nature will
inherit the abodes of purity and undecaying existence. It is this
consideration which endears celestial felicity. Exemption from death
implies deliverance from sin, and the Christian wishes to possess a
character which God shall approve, and to be cleansed from those stains of
guilt which infect his present being, and render him offensive to his
Father in heaven. Were he destined always to be unholy, he would scarcely
contemplate immortality as a blessing; but because he has reason to
anticipate "a waking" from the sleep of the grave, in the divine
"likeness," he realizes a period in the bright annals of his future being,
when he shall no longer have occasion to exclaim, "O wretched man that I
am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" The pains of
_separation_, too, which afflict this mortal state, cannot exist in that
"better country." Society will unquestionably prove one considerable
source of the happiness of heaven, where immortal beings will be so
circumstanced and capacitated, as both to receive and impart enjoyment.
The very nature of man is constituted social; and though our circumstances
in this life often render temporary separations unavoidable, in a perfect
state of society they must be needless; consequently they will not be
suffered to impair the joys of paradise.
The most afflictive of all separations, is that which is occasioned by
death. In all other cases, a lingering hope may exist of a reunion at some
period however distant; at least _the possibility of_ it is cheering: but,
even if there be no reasonable expectation of this, the very consciousness
that our friend is still alive, still on earth, still capable of receiving
and performing acts of kindness, still able to communicate with us by
letter or by message, to participate our pleasures, to sympathize with our
sorrows, and to pray for our welfare, is consoling in every
vicissitude;--but when death sets his awful seal upon our companion,
relative or friend, we cherish a deeper feeling of grief, and cannot look
to any _earthly_ means of consolation--but we _can_ look to a _heavenly_
one! Whatever resource fails, the religion of the Bible supplies
inexhaustible springs of comfort. God is on high--Jesus "ever
lives"--Christians know they shall soon pass into a world where the happy
circle will never be broken, the communion of kindred spirits never cease,
the day of blessedness never decline, the sabbath of immortality never
terminate.
It is in the temple also, that those who like Anna receive just
impressions from its services, and live in a state of holy intercourse
with God, learn to appreciate the capacities of a spiritual mind for
progression in wisdom and felicity, and by consequence to cherish the
noblest anticipations of their own future possible elevation of character.
How many unfinished schemes are frustrated by death! Our plans of
futurity, our purposes of gain, or our resolves of usefulness, may be
ended in one short hour. Here the labours of the industrious, the studies
of the learned, the investigations of the philosopher, and the career of
the pious, close. The grave silences the voice of the preacher, and
paralyzes the hand of the charitable. Here the arguments of a Paul
end--here the silver tongue of an Apollos is speechless--here the hands of
a Dorcas cease to manufacture for the poor, whose unavailing tears cannot
recall departed piety.
But who will define the limits of possible attainment in knowledge and
excellence in a state of deathless existence? Society is always improving,
even in the present world, amidst all its imperfections. The researches of
past ages have transmitted a vast stock of wisdom to their successors,
both in reference to natural science and religious truth. Who can tell
what discoveries a Newton might have made, had he possessed a terrestrial
immortality? or who can conceive what heights and depths of divine
knowledge might have been disclosed, had the apostles of Christ been
permitted to live to the present period, and had it been the will of God
that they should have received a constant succession of revelations?
In both these cases, not only has death terminated this series of bright
discovery, but this earth is not the destined place, nor time the destined
period, for those manifestations of eternal wisdom, which we have reason
to believe will take place in another world. Those impediments to
knowledge, and those reasons for concealment, which at present exist, will
be removed, and truth open all her treasures to immortalized and
sanctified spirits. The consequence of the progressive disclosure of
spiritual things, of the works and ways of God, will be progressive
improvement: and, as in consequence of the clearer development of truth
in the Gospel, "he who is least in the kingdom of heaven, is greater than
John the Baptist;" so when all the shadows and clouds that bedim our
present existence shall have disappeared, and a ray of heaven pours its
glorious illumination upon the mysteries of time, the least in the
paradise of God will be greater than the most distinguished in his church
on earth. And as we never shall cease to improve in knowledge--for there
will be no termination to our spiritual researches--there will probably
arrive a period in eternity, when he who at the resurrection will be least
in the heavenly world in capacity and glory, will become greater in
consequence of ever new discoveries, than at that moment will be the
greatest of the redeemed universe. And the meanest Christian on earth may
indulge the hope that, at a future age, even he may become superior in
knowledge, in love, in capacity, and in glory, to what the brightest
seraph or the tallest archangel, is at present in the heaven of heavens;
for who can tell what God may do for beatified souls? who dare limit the
operations of his mercy, or who can imagine to what an elevation of wisdom
and felicity an emparadised believer may attain?
Progression is the law of a thinking being. And why should it not operate
upon holy intelligences in the future state, as well as in the present?
and why not when "there shall be no more death," to an incalculably
greater extent? Why should not every new idea acquired in that world
become a seed of truth in the mind, that shall spring up and bear fruit,
multiply and expand, without restriction and without end?--
There is not in religion a nobler or a more animating sentiment, than this
perpetual advancement of the soul towards perfection. Life has its
maturity and decline, nature its boundaries of beauty, human affairs their
zenith of glory; but, in "the new heavens and new earth wherein dwelleth
righteousness," every thing will be eternally upon the advance--there will
be no end to the path of knowledge--present acquisitions will be the basis
of subsequent acquirements--we shall be continually outshining ourselves,
by making nearer approaches to infinite goodness--and the whole moral
creation will be forever beautifying in the eyes of God.
The Woman of Samaria.